So Contagious
by FilthyxMind
Summary: AU. Highschool.
1. New

_Time shows us that all that ever mattered  
all that ever mattered leaves us in the cold  
if you ever believe this is what you need  
it will spin around and shatter

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_

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**

Harry Potter stepped into the large school. His stomach was alive with butterflies and he was sure he _might just_ blow chunks everywhere. Harry had always been a nervous person. His Uncle Vernon's abuse tactics _might've_ had something to do with it. They probably did. None of that matter anymore, though. Harry hadn't seen Uncle Vernon for years – not since he was eleven. He no longer needed to fill his mind up with thoughts that no longer should consume him. They only made him more nervous. He had gotten saved – just let it **drop**.

Swallowing down the memories, Harry slowly moved his feet forward, eyes looking around in awe. Sure, he had _known_ St. James – A high school mostly known for it's art curriculum but taught every subject as well – was a superior school and, sure, he knew it would be huge but, he hadn't really expected it to be…_huge. _Harry didn't get out much, that's for sure. He moved forward a bit more, taking in his surroundings. Studied the other students. There were so many people. There were more people in here than Harry was used to see, that's for sure. Harry forced his feet to keep on moving, not aware of where he was supposed to be going.

Sighing, he reached into his shoulder bag, looking through the disorganized mess to find a sheet of paper that would tell him exactly where to go. A few people brushed shoulders with him as they sped past him and he'd jump slightly at the contact. He wasn't a person who much liked touching. He finally retrieved the paper, sighing with relief, and unfolded it. First class – art. He fought down more butterflies as he strode down the long, seemingly endless corridors looking for the room that was typed on his sheet of paper. A few seconds later two students seemed to appear out of nowhere, bright smiles on their faces.

"Harry Potter?"

"Y-Yeah, that's m-me."

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley. We were told there was going to be a new student coming in today and were asked to accompany you, you know, since you're new."

Harry offered them a smile.

"That'd be great."

The two smiled back at him. They seemed friendly. They _were_ friendly. Harry offered them the room he was looking for. On the way to his destination the girl, Hermione, asked a lot of questions, though, she made him comfortable while she did so. Harry told her what she wanted to know – he had gotten in on a scholarship, he sang and played the electric guitar and did a little bit of painting as well. He was also good in mathematics. Hermione played the piano and Ron quickly told him that he specialized in English and art.

The two dropped him off in his assigned room – the art room.

"We'll see you at lunch, Harry."

So, the day hadn't started off badly – Harry hadn't expected it.

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**

Harry hadn't talked to anyone when he had joined the other classmates behind the door. He wished that the two students he had just met were also joining him. Swallowing, Harry made his way towards a seat. He almost made it but, alas, the teacher _had_ to speak. The next five minutes were spent with introducing Harry to some of the students in the class. Afterwards, blushing and stumbling, Harry headed to an easel as far away from the front of the classroom as possible. He quickly hid his extremely short form behind it hoping he wouldn't make an embarrassment out of himself.

The he dropped a carton of paint.

**Dammit**.

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**

"How were your first classes?"

Harry shrugged. After he had dropped the carton of _red_ paint on the floor he had been thoroughly embarrassed. It hadn't been a _big_ carton but it had caused everyone's attention to be on him. Attention was just something that Harry didn't like and something he wasn't _used_ to. It freaked him out a bit, he'd admit. Seconds later, Harry blushing and muttering that he was sorry a thousand times, a blond stooped down on the floor next to him to help him clean up the mess.

He had been the most gorgeous man Harry had ever seen.

Harry became a blushing and stuttering mess all over again – butterflies working overtime – but he had managed a smile and thanks. The floor was cleaned up in no time and the blond had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and held his hand out for a polite shake. Harry, not one to be rude, returned the shake. This Draco Malfoy had very nice hands. They were soft and warm and…just nice. The whole class Harry had willed himself not to look in the direction of Draco the rest of the class period. So, when he ran to the English classroom he had been very peeved to see that Draco was in _that_ class as well.

After English, History.

Draco was in there too.

Then French – **He was there**.

Then Chemistry – who was there? _Him_.

What had he done to deserve this? However, Draco hadn't made any attempts to talk to him again for which Harry was glad. It didn't make it necessarily easier to pay attention in class, though.

"They were ok. The teachers seem nice."

"If you pay attention and do your assignments, they're nice."

Harry thanked Hermione for the warning as he pulled a sandwich out of his shoulder bag. He didn't carry a lunch box – that kind of seemed elementary to him. Plus, he wasn't exactly going to ask Mrs. Figg to buy him one. They were running low on money as it _was_. Mrs. Figg had been watching Harry ever since Harry had been taken out of the Dursely's home when he was eleven. She had come to America with him when he had been transferred here. She wasn't wealthy but she had enough to make it through. There home was small but tidy and livable.

Harry couldn't really ask for anything more.

Ron spoke next, mouth full of food.

"What class do you have next?"

It came out a lot more garbled than that. Harry pulled out his schedule, "Music." Ron nodded. "You'll like that class. I mean, since you sing." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, Ron, that _is_ music." Ron ignored her and continued happily talking to Harry. "Mr. Binns is nice too. Probably the nicest teacher here."

Despite the comfort – he was _still_ nervous.

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**

Music is the last period, for him, of the day. Lo and behold, Mr. Gorgeous-Blond is there as well. He doesn't walk over and say hi, Harry's not _that_ daring. Instead, he just cowers in a seat near the back of a room. Damn his nerves. Damn his past for making his nerves be…damned. He doesn't escape the teacher's hawk-like eyes. Mr. Binns finds him in about five seconds flat and there he goes, welcoming him and willing him to sit up in the front with the _other_ students. Harry, albeit stubbornly, slides out of his seat and stiffly walks towards the front row.

"You can sit _here_ if you _want_…"

That's the second time that Draco has spoken to him today. Harry offers him a small smile and quickly nods his head. Sitting next to someone who has spoken to him twice is better than sitting next to a **complete** stranger. "T-thanks." Harry quickly wondered if Draco thought he had a speech impediment. He didn't _usually_ stutter. When in larger crowds, however, on top of all his frayed nerves – well, stutter mode is quickly slipped on for the rest of the day. Harry's sure he'll be better tomorrow. Draco quickly nods, offering Harry his own little reassuring smile.

"So, Harry, what do you do?"

Harry is sure Mr. Binns already knows – he's probably just trying to make him feel more comfortable. Harry shifted in his seat, his mouth suddenly very dry. He drew in a deep breath and told himself that if he stuttered he was going to kill himself. Not really, of course. He wasn't really the suicidal type but if he stuttered again…Harry would be very upset about it. "I sing and play electric guitar." He suddenly realized he was gripping the armrests of the seat so hard that it was starting to hurt and his knuckles were a very pale white. He loosened his grip and quickly put his hands in his lap where his fingers began to fiddle with the hem of his uniform shirt.

He really didn't _like_ the uniforms.

Starch shirts, ironed black pants and ties.

"Excellent. Seeing that it's your first day, however, I won't make you show us your talents today. We'll just let you relax."

**Relax** – was there such a thing?

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**

Harry _did_ relax when he reached home.

Mrs. Figg was waiting eagerly for him at the door when he arrived. "So, how was the first day?" Harry shrugged and ducked into his room to set his shoulder bag down. On his way out he loosened the tie around his neck and sat down at the table. Mrs. Figg was pouring him a glass of milk. She had been baking today – probably because it was Harry's first day at a new school or whatever. She handed him a plate of cookies. "It was alright, I guess."

"Make any friends?"

"…Yeah. Hermione and Ron. They helped me around St. James the entire day. They're pretty nice. Then there's a guy named Draco – he talked to me a few times. He's in all of my classes."

"How were the teachers?"

Harry shrugged again as he bit into a soft chocolate chip cookie. Mrs. Figg made the _best_ chocolate chip cookies in the universe.

"They were nice."

Harry decided that Mr. Binns was, by far, the nicest.

"I'm glad you had a good first day, Harry."

"Yeah…_me too_."

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**&&&**

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****

**Authors note:** For lack of creativity, I just call the school St. James. If any of you readers watch or watched QAF you know that St. James is the private school that Justin attended. Anyway, I'm a review addict so it'd be nice if I had a buttload of reviews, good or bad. I'm always up for constructive criticism. Just don't be an ass about it, please.

**_Lyrics: _**The song lyrics are from "In the Cold" by Acceptance.


	2. Movie

_

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_

He's electric  
Can't forget it  
Yeah he's electric  
Don't forget it

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**

Harry was proud to say that, three weeks later, he wasn't nervous anymore. His mind and body quickly adjusted to the crowds of people. Once he settled in, he was fine. Ron and Hermione hadn't left his side once, well, except, _you know_, to go to their classes. They only had two classes all together – Chemistry. They obviously ate lunch together and went to each other's houses on the weekend. They'd go to Hermione's home a lot – for study. Ron and Harry, however, would be too busy goofing off to actually _study_ though.

Like now.

"Can you guys be mature…_ever_?"

"Uh – _no_."

Harry laughed at Ron's response and Ron went back to telling Harry about the time he stuck a mouse in Pansy Parkinson's skirt a few months back. Pansy Parkinson: there were a few choice words Harry could use to describe her. Slut, whore, bitch, **ugly**. The list could go on and on. She definitely wasn't the nicest participant in the school, for sure. Harry had had a run in with her one too many times. It happened in first period. Ever since his first day, Draco's easel had been situation next to his and Pansy's next to Draco. It was obvious that the girl liked Draco – immensely.

Anyway, he had been minding his _own_ business – imagine that! Harry minding his own business! Shocking – and she had come over and "accidentally" pushed him into his easel. His shirt had been soaked with paint due to the paintbrush that had been in his hand at the time. He had been irate of course but he didn't really do anything about it. What _could_ he do? He wouldn't start a fight. He wasn't like that but, boy, did he _want_ to. Draco, however, didn't take her shit like Harry was going to. He practically bit her head off, irritated look on his features, and she had run off on the brink of tears when he was through with her.

Then he had helped Harry clean up.

"Hey, I have an extra shirt. _C'mon_."

Neither spoke for a little bit on the way to Draco's locker. Harry didn't talk because, well, Draco was good looking. Harry didn't talk to good looking boys. Well, ones that he was attracted to anyway. "Sorry about Pansy. She's a royal pain in my ass. Not in a life affirming way either." It took Harry a moment to actually register the words. _'Not in a life affirming way either.'_ Harry had a feeling that he knew what Draco was hinting at but he didn't say anything. He brushed the statement off as if it were nothing. As if he hadn't heard it.

"It's ok. It's not _your_ fault, anyway."

The two stopped at Draco's locker. Harry's mind was still pondering over the simple statement that Draco had made. '_Not in a life affirming way either.'_ So…was Draco simply letting Harry know he was…gay? Harry decided that this may be correct but he was still **not** going to say anything about it. He couldn't bring up the subject. Not if he wanted to become a stuttering, blushing nervous wreck again. Harry watched as Draco slung open the locker door and reached inside. He pulled back to reveal a new starch shirt.

"Here ya go."

"Thanks. I _really_ appreciate this."

"No problem – _you owe me_."

That had been a week ago. Harry tuned back into the present time. Ron was still rambling about how Pansy had nearly died of heart attack. "Too bad she _didn't_." Hermione 'tsked' at Harry's words but Harry ignored her. He was sure Hermione felt the same way. Pansy was just as mean, if not worst, to Hermione as she was to everyone else. It was like Pansy got off on making Hermione's life miserable. Pansy taunted her about her frizzy hair, being a nerd, being this and being that. Harry concluded that Pansy was just jealous.

After Ron finished the grand story Harry crawled up onto the bed and settled in next to Hermione whose face was hidden in a book. Ron did the same, taking out a stress ball and throwing it up in the air over and over again. Harry cleared his throat, "Mione?" Hermione took the time to take her face out of the book, eyebrow raised. Harry knew she didn't like being interrupted when she was studying but, he really had burning questions that he'd love to have answered. Assuming that they were answerable by her. "Do you know Draco Malfoy?" Ron made an odd sound and Harry looked over at him questioningly.

Ron only shrugged.

"…Yeah, I do. He's very,"

Ron interrupted, "**_GAY_**!"

"Ronald! You say as if it's a bad thing. It's not. It's just who he is. So, I suggest you get over yourself and get over it. He's been gay since we first met him. You should be used to it."

He shrugged, "I _didn't_ say it as if it were bad. I'm just not fond of it. Or him."

Hermione ignored him, "Why do you ask, Harry?" Harry just shrugged. So, Draco hadn't just been joking. He had been serious. Draco Malfoy was gay. Harry was glad he got that question out of the way. "W-well, he's nice is all." Hermione offered him a weird look, eyebrow still raised in question. She slowly closed her book and kept it on her lap, hands folded on top of it. "Harry…is there something you need to…tell us?"

"W-what?"

"I just mean, Harry, that…if you're…gay then it's ok. We don't mind. I mean, everyone's honest here, Harry so…if you _are_…then it'd be nice if you'd tell us."

Shit. SHITSHITSHIT.

It wasn't that he was ashamed. It's just that…he didn't want to just come out and say it. Though, it'd probably make things a lot better if he did.

"S-sure. Yeah. I am."

"I knew it."

Ron nodded, "You were right all along, Mione."

"I know."

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**

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**

"_Here's your shirt back."_

The next morning, Friday, Harry strode into the art room ten minutes early. Draco was already there, sitting on top of a table, headphones over his ears and flipping through a magazine. Harry shyly made his way over to the table, one hand holding Draco's shirt and his other hand fiddling with the strap of his shoulder bag. His fingers always began to fiddle when he was around the blond. His cheeks also had a tendency to warm up a tad. He also couldn't really get himself to make any type of eye contact with Draco.

Harry cleared his throat but Draco didn't hear him. So, getting up the courage, Harry reached out and lightly touched the blond on the shoulder. Draco jumps, Harry guessed that he startled him, and the headphones were yanked off and the blond was turning his head to look over his shoulder. Draco immediately relaxed when he realized it was only Harry and a smile fell onto his mouth. Harry liked the boy's smile. It was warm, gentle. Attractive. Harry smiled back and held the folded, white lump in the blond's direction.

"Here's your shirt back."

"I let you borrow it _last week_."

He was joking. Harry could tell by the smile on his face. Harry returned the smile as Draco took the folded article out of his hand. "Well…I wanted to wash it for you. And…I kind of kept forgetting to bring it in. I would have gotten it to you sooner but…yeah…" Harry realized he was being a rambling idiot so he quickly clamped his mouth shut. Draco chuckled, sliding off the table to shove the shirt into his book bag. "_It's ok_, Harry, thanks." Harry quickly nodded, mumbling 'your welcome' under his breath and moving to go stand next to his easel before he could embarrass himself further.

Draco's hand wrapping around his wrist stopped him.

"Harry, wait."

"Y-yes?"

Draco's hand was warm and soft. Harry wondered if Draco was aware of Harry's pulse shooting skyward at the little contact. Harry sure as hell felt it. Heats heating up a bit, Harry slowly turned around. Draco's hand hadn't left his wrist yet and Harry was surprised he was allowing the hand to stay there. He wasn't a big fan of getting all…touchy feely and he wasn't one to _allow_ someone to grab him the way Draco had – so suddenly – but he was letting it happen. It was strange. Harry wasn't sure what was wrong with him.

Draco's hand dropped Harry's wrist.

Harry still felt it though – burning.

"I was just curious if you wanted to do something this weekend. I mean, I know you're always hanging out with Hermione and Weas-_Ron_, but, we're friends _too_. And…friends, you know, _hang out_."

Harry snorted, suddenly amused.

"I _know_ what friends do, Draco."

"Then what do you say?"

"I say…alright, sure."

* * *

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**

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**

"Draco asked me to hang out this weekend."

"He asked you out on a **_date_**?"

Harry rolled his eyes over at Ron and shook his head. "No, you idiot. He asked if I wanted to hang out like you do. And I know you weren't asking me out all those times over the last three weeks." Ron quickly assured Harry that he hadn't been asking him out all those times. Hermione smiled, slightly amused at Ron's reaction. She turned back to Harry and finished swallowing her salad. "What are you guys gonna do?" Harry shrugged and took a bite out of his hamburger.

"No idea. He just asked."

"You better give me all the details."

"Hermione – you're acting like his…official fag hag or something. It's making me nauseas. Plus, _Hermione_, it's not even a date. Why would you want details?"

"I _am_ his fag hag. I called it."

"Good – I didn't want it. _Freak_."

Harry shook his head, rolled his eyes and resumed to eating his lunch in comfortable silence. Ron ruined it. "Hermione, you still haven't answered my question. Why must you know the details of their…hanging out?" Hermione shrugged. "Because, I want to know what two attractive gay males, who are friends, do together when they hang out." Harry laughed slightly, shaking his head. "Mione, gay people are just like straight people. We don't…hang out _differently_, I don't think." Ron shook his head. "I guess we're about to find out. Tune in next week for the mind blowing outcome of two gay men hanging out together."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Ronald."

* * *

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**

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**

"Harry, there's a boy on the phone for you."

"Alright, coming!"

Harry strode out of his bathroom on Saturday afternoon, eyes slightly watery. He had just put in his contacts and, sometimes, it took his eyes a minute to adjust. Harry stole the hand out of Mrs. Figg's hand and held it up to his ear still trying to get his left eye to stop hurting. "Hello?" The sound of Draco's voice on the other end of the phone made him forget all about the pain in his left eye. It simply vanished. Or maybe his eye just had good timing but, whatever the reason for his now painless state, he was happy about it.

"Hey, Draco."

He casually ducked into his bedroom and away from Mrs. Figg's listening ears. Mrs. Figg _knew_ that he was gay but she didn't necessarily need to know that a guy was asking to hang out other than Ron. She'd get the wrong idea and go into ballistics. It's not that she didn't want him to meet someone. She was just insanely protective over him and whatnot. "You still wanna hang out with me, right?" Harry nodded and then realized that Draco couldn't see it. "Yeah, of course." He heard a voice in the background. A woman's voice. "Hold on, mom, can't you see I'm on the phone?" Harry smiled slightly and waited.

"Sorry 'bout that."

"That's ok."

"You wanna meet later?"

"I, well, I don't have a car."

"I can pick you up."

Harry nodded and, _again_, realized that Draco wouldn't be able to see it. "That's fine." Harry quickly gave his address to the blond and while he did so, butterflies decided to make a neat little home in the pit of his stomach. "Wanna go to a movie?" When was the last time Harry had gone to the movies? Not in a long, long while. Harry sounded eager when he told Draco that he did want to see a movie. Draco laughed slightly and Harry liked the sound. "Do you like scary movies?" Harry thought for a moment. The last scary movie he had seen had been Scary Movie at Ron's house and he was sure Draco didn't mean _that._

"Sure."

"Great. I'll pick you up in about an hour."

Harry walked back into the kitchen to hand the phone to Mrs. Figg. "Who was that?" Harry quickly told her it was Draco. "He's picking me up in an hour to got the movies." Harry waited for Mrs. Figg to get suspicious but, surprisingly, she didn't. "That sounds like fun. My friend, Sally, is coming over to pick me up in about twenty minutes. We're going to go out and have some coffee. It's been ages since I've done anything with her." Harry raised an eyebrow. He knew Sally – she was insanely nice – but she was kind of…well, odd. She had a weird obsession with cats and cheese. Old people.

"Alright, cool. When will you get back?"

"Who knows? For her _age_, Sally is quite the night owl."

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**

After Mrs. Figg left Harry busied himself with getting ready. As each second ticked away he grew more and more nervous. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn't a big deal. They were just going to a movie. There wouldn't really be any talking involved the entire time they were together. Harry quickly pulled on a pair of black corduroy pants, a white polo shirt and red converse. His hair remained unkempt and shaggy around his ears. Mrs. Figg kept pestering him about getting it cut but, he _liked_ his hair like this. The next ten minutes was spent with Harry walking back and forth in front of the door waiting.

He was only making himself more nervous.

A knock made him jump. When he opened it Draco stood there in all his perfect cleanliness. "Hi." Draco smiled, slightly amused. Harry guessed it was because of him. He _was_ always shy after all. "Ready?" Harry quickly nodded and shut the door and, before leaving, locked it. He followed Draco outside and got into the passenger seat of Draco's jeep. He had expected Draco's car to be so much more…extravagant like Draco himself. Not a jeep. Harry liked the jeep though, don't get him wrong. Harry buckled in and, like always, his fingers began to fiddle with the strap across his chest. Draco buckled in and they were off.

"W-what are we seeing?"

"When a Stranger Calls."

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**

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**

Harry learned something very informative tonight. He wasn't good at watching scary movies in dark rooms. He probably wasn't good at watching scary movies _period_. The movie had been _beyond_ scary. Draco hadn't thought so but Harry on the other hand, _did _think so. Very much so. He didn't scream, though, which was good. The only reason he didn't scream though was because his face was smashed into Draco's arm the whole time. His hand, too, had been holding Draco's hand in a death grip. Harry was surprised he hadn't cut off Draco's blood circulation.

Harry practically ran out of the theater.

But not without his hand around Draco's wrist.

There was no way he was going off anywhere – **alone**.

Draco laughed at him, "God, Harry, it _wasn't_ scary." Harry begged to differ. "Yes, it was. Very scary. _You're wrong_." Draco shook his head and gently pried his wrist out of Harry's death grip. "Harry, you're kind of hurting me, loosen it up." Harry quickly loosened his grip but there was no way he was letting go. Draco snorted at him. "Harry, look. There are _lights_ on out here. There are _people_ out here. Look, there's a cop. We're _fine_." Harry still didn't let go. He was going to take his chances. Harry practically ran to Draco's car with Draco in tow. A _laughing_ Draco in tow. When Draco started the car they drove in silence for a few moments. Until Harry came to a realization.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"You're not leaving my house until Mrs. Figg gets back. There's no way I'm staying in that…that _trap_ by myself. You're being held hostage."

"You could've just _asked_. I would've said _yes_."

* * *

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**

When they got to Harry's house it was dark. Well, obviously because it was night but…when it was night at Harry's house, well, it was dark. There weren't any streetlamps and the bulb to their outside light was still busted so, yeah, **no light**. Harry latched himself on to Draco, which he normally wouldn't do, as they walked down the path that led to the front door. Draco continued laughing about it while muttering under his breath that it would be ok. Harry chose not to believe him. He had no idea what kind of nutcases that were out here waiting for the opportune moment to –

Harry stepped on a twig, it snapped and it freaked him out.

He probably jumped ten feet in the air.

Draco was in hysterics.

"Harry! God, calm down."

Harry fumbled with the keys and finally got the door unlocked. As soon as he did he dragged Draco inside and made Draco come with him to every room to flip on every single light in the house. Harry wouldn't let Draco leave his side – not even once. Not until Mrs. Figg was home. "Are you ok?" Harry shook his head. "I cannot believe you dragged me to that movie, Draco Malfoy." Draco shrugged, smile on his face. "I didn't know you'd get this scared. It's _just_ a movie, Harry." Harry shook his head defiantly. "I don't care."

"You're ridiculous."

"Hmph."

* * *

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**

* * *

**

The next hour is spent with the two of them playing Scrabble on top of Harry's bed. They just had to be really still so the pieces wouldn't move. The game made Harry start to relax. He was no longer scared about being killed by a maniac. Scrabble was a great helper for that type of thing. Harry yawned. His eyes suddenly felt heavy – his entire body felt drained – and he looked over at the clock sitting on his nightstand. Where the hell was Mrs. Figg? It was already one in the morning! When Harry looked back over at Draco and the Scrabble board there was a smirk on Draco's face and the word 'QUEER' spelt out on the bored. It won him a lot of points, though Harry wasn't sure if that was the exact reason he had spelt the word.

'_Not in a life affirming way.'_

"O-oh, my turn."

There was a smile on Draco's face now and Harry ignored it. Just like he ignored the word Draco had put on the bored. Queer could mean two things anyway. It could mean being different, odd. Or being a homo but…whatever. Harry chose to ignore it. They continued playing for about five more minutes – there were no more strange words spelt – and Harry yawned again. "I'm spent. I'm too tired. I don't even think I can spell anymore." Draco shrugged, cleared the bored and the two put everything back where it was supposed to go. By the time Draco had walked out of the room to place the game in the closet, Harry was half asleep and under the covers.

"Mind if I stay here?"

"Sure…w-whatever…"

And he was out.

* * *

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**

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**_Lyrics: _**Song 'Electric' by Tristan Prettyman.


	3. Maybe

_I've been waiting for something.  
I've been sitting for too long_

_**&&&

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**_

'_What the hell?'_

Harry wasn't accustomed to waking up with someone next to him. Sure, when he was little he had slept next to Mrs. Figg a few times but, never, **never** with anyone else. Especially a guy someone else and, well, waking up with your face buried in a shock of sweet smelling blond hair obviously freaked him out quite a bit. He had probably leapt ten feet in the air and all the way across the tiny bedroom. What the hell was going on? He quickly thought about last night. There had been…

Scrabble.

_Queer._

And Draco asked if he could stay.

And Harry had said yes. That was all. Draco had only made himself comfortable. It's not like he had known Harry would freak out over this type of thing. Harry forced himself to regulate his breathing and control his speeding thoughts. It wasn't a big deal. God. Wait – had Mrs. Figg seen? She would've had to have seen. Harry knew she would check on him when she got back and then she would've seen Draco right next to him. On his bed. _Close in proximity_. Harry shoved a hand through his hair. It wasn't a big deal, it wasn't.

Swallowing, eyes burning slightly from sleeping in his contacts, he quickly hurried into the bathroom, put some eye drops in his eyes and bravely stepped out into the open. Mrs. Figg was making breakfast – eggs and bacon. He stepped around the counter to let Mrs. Figg no he was awake and ready to answer the questions that were sure to come. "Good morning, Harry!" She sounded insanely cheerful as she bustled around the kitchen. Harry swallowed, still waiting. "M-mornin'." Mrs. Figg offered him a bright smile.

"How was your night?"

"It was…good."

"I'll bet. When I got home you guys were out. I called your name a few times to let you know I was home but you didn't stir a bit."

So, she _had_ seen them. Together. On his bed.

Didn't she care?

"Well, yeah, we stayed up late to wait up for you…but it got pretty late. So, uh, how was your night with Sally? You guys must've had some time, stayin' out so late."

She smiled.

"We had a _fabulous_ time."

"Care to explain?"

"Oh, just old people stuff."

Right.

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**

After Draco had woken up things hadn't been as awkward as Harry had expected they would be. Draco didn't say anything about the sleeping arrangement and Harry had dropped the subject from his mind altogether. Well, not _altogether_ but, he tried to push it out as much as possible. He didn't stay long anyway – he had left about an hour after he woke up. In that time span they had mostly sat around the kitchen eating their breakfast and talking to Mrs. Figg, who really seemed to love Draco. Harry seemed to think that she liked him a little too much.

When he was gone Mrs. Figg bragged on him for about two hours.

* * *

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**

"So, Harry, do tell…what did you gay boys do?"

Harry rolled his eyes over at Ron as he strode into St. James Monday morning. Hermione smiled slightly and didn't scold Ron like he had expected her to. Ron poked him in the side and demanded that he must tell. Harry, yet again, rolled his eyes. This was just…ridiculous. "We didn't do anything. Well, anything that _you're_ thinking anyway." Ron tried to look offended but the look didn't really look good on him, not at all.

"What?"

"I know what your sick mind thinks of."

"Me? Sick mind? Impossible."

Harry just shook his head. Hermione finally spoke up, small smile on her face. "So, what _did_ you guys do? Just…hang out?" Harry lifted his shoulders up in a shrug and she practically had a heart attack. "Harry! C'mon, you must tell us about your date!" Harry raised an eyebrow over at her. It hadn't been a _date._ Honestly, he sometimes wondered if Hermione had any idea what she was talking about. "Hermione….calm down…it wasn't a date."

"I don't care what it was. I just want to know what happened."

"Well, Mrs. Figg left, I waited for him, he picked me up, we saw a movie, we came back home, he stayed, he stayed the night--"

Ron jumped in, "HE STAYED THE NIGHT?"

"Hush, Ronald!"

Harry simply nodded.

"We both kinda fell asleep. It was late. And playing Scrabble didn't exactly wake us up any and, so, yeah…he stayed the night."

"In your bed?"

Harry nodded over at Ron, cheeks flushing slightly. "With you?" Harry swallowed and nodded again and quickly added, "It's not like anything happened. We just fell asleep. It was on purpose or anything." Ron snorted, "Harry, you are so naïve. It's obvious that Malfoy didn't accidentally fall asleep. He obviously _wants_ you." Harry laughed; it was loud and sudden and Ron and Hermione both looked absolutely confused. "W-what's so funny?" Harry shook his head at Ron.

"You are such a _moron._"

"What?"

"You have no idea **what** you're talking about."

Hermione shook her head, "That does happen often with Ron."

* * *

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**

Harry stepped into the Art room. Everyone else was already there and he realized he must've been delayed by Ron's ridiculous talk. Draco Malfoy didn't want _him._ Did he? Sure, Draco was nice to Harry but…so were other people. And, yeah, sure, Draco had wanted to hang out with Harry over the weekend – no big deal, right? Just because Draco wanted to hang out didn't mean he automatically wanted him. Friends hang out all the time – there was nothing different there, was there? Harry didn't think so. Draco and him were friends.

Simple.

Or maybe Ron was right.

Maybe he _was_ naïve.

Shaking his head, Harry decided to let the thoughts drop as he headed over to his usual spot in the class. There as Draco, as usual, sitting atop a table with his headphones on. This time he was facing in Harry's direction so there was no chance that Harry could scare him. And there also wasn't a chance that Harry could go for five minutes without Draco noticing him. As soon as Draco saw him, the headphones were off his blond head and Draco was offering him his thousand watt grin. He slide off the table and sauntered towards Harry, smile still on his face.

Harry smiled back as he set his bag on the floor next to the easel.

"So, anyone try and kill you after I left?"

"Ha, ha."

He pushed Draco on the shoulder just enough to make him step back a few steps. Harry offered him another smile, however, to let the blond know he was kidding…though he was sure Draco had already known that. Whatever. The blond stepped back towards Harry, maybe even closer before, though Harry was sure he could be imagining things and he watched quite studiously as Harry arranged his art supplies the way he liked it. "Quite the perfectionist, are we?"

"Me? You _saw_ my room, Draco."

"Yeah, and it was clean."

"It was not."

"Whatever you say, Harry."

Suddenly there was a shrill voice that neither of them was very happy to hear, "_Dracoooo_!" Draco rolled his eyes before turning around to face Pansy, who was, as usual, looking like quite the clown with her make up heavily did and her skirt rolled up to reveal not-so-sexy legs. Harry sighed and distracted himself by sitting down in a chair and digging through his book bag. He wasn't looking for anything in particular – he was just trying to make himself as invisible as possible.

He didn't want Pansy to bother him again.

But she did anyway.

"Hey, Potter, wanna go get me some paint? And how 'bout you don't spill it this time, klutz."

"Leave him alone, Parkinson."

Harry felt something kind of warm and fluffy in the pit of his stomach when Draco stood up for him with his firm, authoritive voice and everything. "What? You're friends with that – that…_freak_?" Harry wasn't sure what made him a freak, exactly. Sure, he was quiet, he kept to himself all the time and he only had two, not counting Draco, friends in the entire school. But, he really wasn't sure what classified him as a freak. Pansy was just…deranged. "He isn't a freak." Harry got that feeling again and dared to look over at the two.

Pansy looked slightly awestruck and irritated.

Draco looked downright irritated.

"Draco, look at him."

And Draco did look over at him and Harry looked at Draco. Draco only smiled, "I am, Pansy. He's definitely not a freak." Pansy huffed and stomped off towards her easel, which was still too close for anyone's comfort but Harry would take what he could get. Harry, feeling his cheeks heat up, quickly looked away and busied himself with his book bag again. He couldn't help but leave a small smile on his face, though. Maybe Ron _was_ right and maybe Draco _did_ like Harry, though, Harry would probably continue to doubt it.

* * *

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**

**Lyrics: **Song 'This is the Countdown' by Mae.


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